‘Nodder has confessed!’ I cried. ‘Bates has it down in writing; he wants Will and me and Collins in the forecastle as witnesses. Jump up and take the wheel whilst I call Will.’
Before the words were fairly off my lips he was out of his bunk, pulling on his coat. I rushed to Will’s cabin and dragged the dear boy half out of bed in my eagerness to awaken and get him forward quickly. His berth was next to Rotch’s; the bulkhead between was stout, but a voice exerted strongly was easily to be heard through the partition. I cried out in loud, clear tones that Nodder had confessed Tom’s innocence, that Mr. Bates had taken his statement down in writing, and that he (Will) was instantly required in the forecastle.
Tom was at the wheel. He had sent Collins forward. Will and I ran to the forecastle hatch and descended. I found myself in a small, gloomy, wooden cave; a lamp burning with a large, dim, smoky flame swayed at the end of a lanyard under a grimy central beam. Some bunks were built on either hand of this forecastle. The place contained a sea-chest or two left by the sailors, some remains of bedding, a few odds and ends of wearing apparel. Mr. Bates sat upon a chest under the lamp; a bunk-board he had used as a writing-desk stood before him. He held a sheet of foolscap paper.
In a bunk immediately abreast lay Nodder. I could not distinguish much of the man. An old blanket partially covered him. His arms, clothed in a sleeve-waistcoat, lay outside the blanket. His colour was sickly, dingy, hideous. His long red hair, like peelings and slicings of carrots, stood harsh and stiff about his brow and coiled wire-like upon the bolster. His wall-eye seemed to be fastened upon me; the other looked straight up. Collins stood near the mate, who, on our descending, exclaimed:
‘I’ll read this confession aloud, that Nodder may hear it’s all right. He’ll then sign, and we four’ll witness.’
Here Nodder turned his head and said: ‘Who’s that female?’
‘The lady Captain Butler’s to be married to,’ answered Mr. Bates.
‘Didn’t know there was e’er a woman aboard,’ said Nodder, speaking as though his throat was raw with drink. Nothing so harsh, rasping, sawlike, did I ever hear.
I got my disgust under and stepped close to the villain. ‘I hope you don’t suffer much?’ I said softly and kindly.
‘I do, then,’ he answered. ‘When there’s hell in the belly and hell in the heart, there’s bound to be suffering. It was all along of that Rotch. Toon up, Mr. Bates, and let’s get the gallus job over.’